


The Fighter

by Higgies230



Category: Prison Break
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 04:43:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8830870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Higgies230/pseuds/Higgies230
Summary: A 5+1 thing. Five times Michael proved he could fight and one time that he couldn't.





	

1) James (original character)

  Michael was sat in the main living area in the most resent foster home. It was a fairly large house, the foster parents being pretty well off, and it currently homed four orphans, him, Linc, a boy called James and a girl named Jesse as well as the owner's two daughters Florence and Tyler. The place was all posh and false, the "love" there was all a lie. The _only_ love in the house was between himself and Linc. Whenever the mother and the oldest daughter Florence were in the same room... well Michael just made sure not to be there. They had only been moved because Lincoln had gotten into trouble with the police again, Michael didn't know anything more than he had been drinking under aged in public. So thanks Linc.

  Instead of interacting with the world, Michael preferred to read. That was how he was when James walked in, in that living room and architecture book balanced on his knee.

  "What are you doing nerd?" James spat, the kid that was always looking for a fight. Michael just didn't feel like giving it though. So he ignored the older boy, pretending he hadn't heard.

  "Hey answer me geek," James growled shoving Michael's shoulder so that he tipped over on the sofa.

  "Nothing that I think would interest you James, just nerdy stuff," Michael replied, straightening up without removing his eyes from the book.

  "That ain't an answer to my question!" James exclaimed. Damn, Michael had tried ignoring the problem but that hadn't worked and now James was just getting on his nerves. He was pretty pent up anyway, doomed to these stupid homes because Lincoln couldn't abide by the rules.

  "Maybe I don't want to answer you okay," Michael said calmly still looking down at the book although no longer processing the information.

  "So, I don't care what you want," James snarled a grabbed a hand full of Michael's t-shirt. The other boy was bigger and older than him and so pulled Michael to his feet with ease, the book falling off his lap to the floor where it lay awkwardly. 

  "Would you kindly let go of me," Michael said, almost snapped despite trying his best to stay calm. 

  "What were you doing and then I will let you go," James spat flecks of saliva onto Michael's face, making him flinch back slightly.

  "You know what? You just need to mind your own business," Michael snapped. He really didn't like James.

  "Little shit!" the older boy snarled.

  At that moment, Lincoln entered the room. Michael's brother stood there in the doorway, watching the events with a protective wariness. It was most probably only because James had his back to the door, subsequent unaware of Lincoln's presence that he had the balls to do what he did next. He pushed Michael back, causing him to lose balance. Just as he regained it, James swung his fist around and cracked Michael on the jaw. For the second time in so many seconds the smaller boy stumbled back, this time clutching his throbbing bruise. 

  "Hey!" Lincoln yelled indignantly, beginning to stride over to his little brother's attacker.

  Michael wasn't having any of it. He was sick of having Lincoln fight his fights for him, he would prove that he could fight them himself. He straightened up just as Lincoln yelled, James therefore still half turned his way as Michael swung his own punch. He heard the crunch as his knuckles connected with the other boy's nose, felt the cartilage crumple. 

  James yelled in pain and shock as blood began to gush from his broken nose. It was his turn to stumble back and he looked in horror at Michael as the crimson flooded between the fingers he had clamped over his face. He turned quickly though, scampering off out of the room, seeming to shrink to half the size as he passed Lincoln.

  "Are you okay?" Lincoln asked, half incredulous, half impressed.

  "Fine," Michael replied, offering his brother a shy smile.

   It was the first time Michael had gotten them kicked out of a home.

2)Theodore Bagwell "T-Bag"

  The man had been watching ever since he had stepped into Fox River a few days ago, he had seen it from the corners of his vision, the greedy gaze on him every moment it could. Those hungry eyes would stare even if the structural engineer was staring right back, unabashed, unafraid. Michael wasn't a stupid man, and even if he was T-Bag's intentions would be clear.

  That  gaze was always particularly intense in the showers. The brown eyes roaming without restraint over the tattooed flesh. Michael had become very good at not showing how it made his skin crawl.

  As he had said, he wasn't  a stupid man, he knew that eventually Bagwell would make a move. The serpent wouldn't while Michael was surrounded by other inmates though, so that was what he made sure of; that he was surrounded by people as much as possible. It wasn't that he was afraid, he refused to be afraid of someone like Theodore Bagwell, it was more that he didn't want the inconvenience.  He really wanted to just keep a low profile. 

  And yet, Michael was human. Humans made mistakes and so Michael slipped up. His fault and he knew it. He was simply walking down one of the plain corridors from the cell block to the yard but further back from the other inmates than he should have. One slip and there _he_ was.

  The long fingered hand gripped his arm, yanking him into an empty room to the side of the corridor. It was sudden, Michael would never have seen it coming. The force sent him sprawling to the floor on the other side of the door which was promptly slammed as soon as Michael was through. T-Bag stood in front of the closed door, a smug, malicious grin on his face.

  "What do you want Bagwell?" Michael snapped, pulling himself to his feet. He knew exactly what the other man wanted but annoyance and even fear made it instinct to stall. Fear, something that he hadn't planned on. It was making his heart beat faster than it should, the palms of his hands already damp from perspiration. 

  "I thought you were meant to be clever," T-Bag drawled in his thick accent," a structural engineer or something. _A college boy_."

  Then he started moving forward. The smooth, languid steps of a hunter stalking his prey, toothy grin in place the whole time. Moving forward until he was an arms length away from taller man. Thin fingers reached out and stroked Michael's face, T-Bag's own tilting to one side as the smile widened. Michael fought not to cringe away from the cold hands.

  The southerner's arousal was obvious by the tent in his prison regulation trousers. Michael made the mistake of glancing down, just a quick flick of the eyes and a nervous swallow. The move wasn't missed by the other man however.

  "You have to understand what I want _now_ Pretty," the man whispered, moving the slightest fraction closer," I have been watching you. So pretty, probably the prettiest in here. Such a treat. Now you really can't be dumb enough not to understand."

  The repulsive man moved his hand down from Michael's face to his ass, the other joining it. The younger man tried to relax as he smiled.

  "You should have just said," Michael whispered back.

  The shocked expression that T-Bag wore was priceless and Michael wished it had lasted longer before the lust replaced it. One thing for sure, T-Bag wasn't expecting that, and yet it pleased him.

  A moan was pulled from Bagwell's throat as Michael closed the remaining space between them and put his hands onto the other man's shoulders. T-Bag's own hands squeezed the flesh of Michael's ass but those hands soon left and the moan turned to a cry of pain and surprise as Michael drove his knee into Bagwell's groin.

 Theodore  Bagwell fell to the floor clutching his crotch as Michael took a step backwards, away from the tangled heap at his feet.

  "You should have said and I would have done that sooner," Michael finished his previous sentence.

  He looked down at T-Bag in disdain, men like him deserved to be locked up as he was, to never see freedom again. Michael turned away from the prone mess and casually walked away, opening the door and passing through it as if nothing had happened.

3)Lechcro's thug

  The bodies formed a tight circle around them. Sweaty, excited men packed in tight, anticipation thick in the air. Above them all, on the second level, Lechcro and Sammy watched on like the king and the prince surveying their kingdom- which, in a twisted way, was pretty much the truth. T-Bag was slouched in the background, gaze fixed on Michael stood in the dust in the middle of the circle.

  The heavily tattooed man looked across at his opponent, a big and frankly terrifying looking guy, and gritted his teeth. Mahone's advice was ringing in his ears, it was foul advice, dirty play but the man was right- no one here would play fair. It meant that the advice was good, something that he should probably follow, advice that he was planning to follow. He was willing to play dirty so that he could get out of this alive. Could it even be dirty? The only rule was not to use weapons other than your own body.

  So he told Lechcro that he wasn't going to fight. He used words from his own body so it wasn't cheating. The commotion that followed was all the distraction he needed to leap forward and slam his foot into the back of the other guy's knee.

  The crack was audible through out the yard. The guy fell down with a yell of pain and savage cheering and roars broke out in the surrounding crowd.

  He tried to leave the fight then, the other guy was down. But he needed to be dead. Only problem was that Michael didn't want him dead, didn't want to kill him. In the end though, he had to keep on fighting.

  Punches flew, Michael receiving a few, the other guy more. Lechcro's man threw stronger punches and Michael knew that he would have been beaten before the fight began if it wasn't for his little stunt.

  Michael threw a punch that sent his opponent sprawling in the dirt- which was when Alex rescued him. He killed the man, much to Michael's displeasure, but he ended the fight. That was a gift, something he was so guiltily grateful for.

4)Agent Don Self

  Self. Just his voice was driving Michael up the wall! Do this, do that, hurry up, be careful, if you get caught, Scofield, Scofield, Scofield. It was all grating badly on Michael's nerves... and his head.

  He knew what his brother thought, nose bleeds and headaches. In Lincoln's eyes it could only mean one thing but it wasn't. He wasn't going to die like their mum had. It was all just a build up of stress, everything pilling up. It was _Self_ and his persistent nagging! It had to be... it had to be.

  Michael just couldn't help but wonder what it was with feds. What made them the most irritating, self-righteous arseholes to traverse the planet? It was one of the mysteries of the universe. Mahone was better though. Maybe it was the job because now that Alex was an ex-federal agent, he was a lot more... bearable. Michael would even go so far as to call him a friend. Maybe... Actually, scrap that, there was no way that Michael trusted Alex Mahone enough for him to be a _friend_. 

  That there was what stress did to him. Made his mind take random paths, made him unable to focus, made him unconsciously draw further into himself. His mind just kept going on random tangents. Pointless. Stupid. Irritating. Highly frustrating. Like Special Agent Don Self.

  "Michael," Lincoln said quietly beside him, for his ears only.

  Michael's head snapped up, pulled from his revelry. He looked to his brother to see him simply tap his upper lip under his nose. Oh.

  The younger brother quickly swiped to back of his hand across his lip before anyone else could notice. He pulled it away to see the red before wiping it on his trouser leg and turning to leave before the blood could make an appearance again. Just get to the bathroom before someone noticed. Plus Sara was in the room- he really didn't want her to think that anything was up.

  "Where are you going Scofield?" Someone asked behind him.

  Self. It was Self. Fucking _Self_! Again!

  Michael just gritted his teeth and continued walking as if he hadn't heard a word, he didn't trust himself to reply without saying something that would start a fight. Because he was really in the fighting mood at that moment and that wasn't good. He was definitely going to punch something or _someone_. And that someone was likely to be the agent. The thing was, Michael wasn't a violent person so such ergs were alien to say the least, just another testament to just how much Self was riling him up. 

  "I said where are you going," Self repeated, his voice taking on a deadly calm quality. He even dared to put a controlling hand on Michael's shoulder. Michael tried not to tense up too much. Or to break the hand currently touching him.

  "To the bathroom. Got a problem?" Michael said icily. God his head! He really couldn't. He just couldn't deal was Self right now.

  The pressure on his shoulder from the agent's grip told Michael that Self wanted him to turn around. Fuck him. Fuck him and anything he wanted. Besides, he didn't want to risk anyone seeing any blood.

  "Yes I've got a problem!" the agent exclaimed as if he was the most important person in the world," I got a problem with you and your shitty attitude, your inability to listen to your superiors so get back to work! If you hadn't noticed, we're on a tight schedule!"

  "You know what, I don't think I will," Michael snarled, making an attempt to pull away from the hand and move off.

"I think you will if you want to be a free man, if you want your brother to be free, if you want _Sara_ to be free," Self spat, threat so clear in his tone.

  Michael turned to him then, painfully aware of the stares of everyone else in the warehouse. He looked down at the hand and peeled it away from his clothes. The other man let his hand fall back to his side, obviously of the misconception that Michael was going to play ball.

  "As long as you know who's boss Scofield, we'll be okay. Now back to work," the agent said in a self-satisfied way.

  Michael watched as the infuriating individual took a few steps away from him before turning again and making his way to the bathroom.

  "Hey!" the indignant call came behind him and Michael felt that hand grab his shoulder _again_.

  He had had enough. His head was splitting in two, the ground was starting to move beneath his feet so he didn't think as he swung around. He smashed his fist into Self's face, felt as he connected with his jaw. The almighty agent was sent sprawling, hand wrenched from Michael's person.

  "We're good as long as you know that I don't consider _you_ the boss," Michael growled as Self struggled to his feet, spitting a bloody glob onto the floor before looking at Michael in hatred.

  Michael glanced briefly at the faces around him. Everyone was shocked into silence, Linc had a half smirk on his face and Sucre had started laughing.

  "Go Papi!" he chortled, Self giving him an evil look, which he ignored.

  Michael turned away quickly as he felt the blood begin to drip from his nose again, heading off to get cleaned up.

5)Anger

  Michael pulled himself over the wall and half slumped down onto the balcony. He let out a huff of air, the climb had been more strenuous than he anticipated. Not overly so though.

  The climb, and not much, would take the drive out of the man. He was running on adrenaline, anger and a fierce need to protect the woman he loved. A potent concoction.

  Inside the room he heard T-Bag's filthy southern drawl and... and scared sobs. Sara's sobs. Her terror only added to the anger bubbling beneath the surface. After everything Bagwell had done... murder, torture, preying on children, backstabbing... trying to rape him. Now he had gone after Sara. Michael had never done anything to deserve the vendetta the con had for him. Hurt his pride sure, made sure he and those he loved survived- he wasn't about to apologize for anything.

  Michael padded through the first room from the balcony, empty but he could so the animal through the glass that separated that room from the next. He made sure that Bagwell didn't hear him, sneaking up behind him and grabbing what appeared to be the long bar of the door hand lying on the floor.

  There he was, pinning Sara against the wall, her sobbing in terror, him licking the shell of her ear. Michael could have sworn that he saw red. He brought the bar up and put as much force as humanly possible into the downward swing. The metal cracked against the back of T-Bag's head and there was a dull thump as the unconscious body slumped to the floor, eyes rolling up in his head. He had never wanted to hurt a human so much in his life, he wanted to beat the would-be-rapist until there wasn't an inch left unbloodied. He raised the bar above his head but he felt the eyes on him.

  They were round brown eyes. The most gorgeous set of eyes in existence but at that moment they were filled with terror and tears. A sob was wrenched from Sara's throat and she looked so small. The helplessness in such a strong woman only increased his fury but he fought it. He forced it down as he lowered the handle, hand still twitching to use it.

  Sara didn't need to see his rage. He dropped the metal with a clank and strode over to her, wrapping her tightly in an embrace. She seemed to melt into him, sobbing openly and he felt open hatred towards the unconscious felon on the floor behind him. But he fought the urge to maim and to hurt. He fought it for Sara.

+1)Guilt

  He didn't know how to fight it. The guilt and the sorrow. It was overwhelming, it was drowning him. He had ruined her life, he had ruined her. _Sara_. His love was selfish. He should have left her life as quickly as he had entered it. But he hadn't.

  Her father was dead because of him. Her career gone because of him. For so long she had been on the run because of him. For so long she had been afraid, _because of him_. The torture that she had endured, the scars she bore, the nightmares that plagued her... they were all his fault. Because he was _selfish_.

  He had been the one to ignite the flame. She had been the young, pretty and oh so clever doctor. He had been attracted to her strength, to her brains and to her morals. She was a bright light in the sea of darkness that was Fox River. There even the guards were corrupt. He had been drawn to that light over any physical beauty she held. It was the beauty inside that had mattered to him.

  He was used to women looking at his body in admiration, had learnt to ignore it. But he was therefore familiar with that look. At first her brown eyes had been filled with that physical attraction but he had also seen how it had deepened. He had seen and he had used it. Used _her_. He had flirted, listened to her and showed her that with the origami flower. The more time that he spent around her the more he fell in love. He had never felt the way he did about anyone else. She just wanted to help people as he did.

  He had been in Fox River to save an innocent man from the electric chair, to give his nephew back his father, get Lincoln back to Vee, to get his brother back. He had been there to stop people hurting... people including himself. But he was a con. From the moment he had stepped into that bank he had thrown away his innocence, if it had been there in the first place. The lengths he was willing to go to... he couldn't be a good person. Not like her.

  He had been trying to stop the pain but in doing so had released a monster. He had been the one responsible for the people that T-Bag had killed. And he had opened up a whole world of pain for Sara. In the end it had all been a selfish ploy to get his brother back, so that he didn't have the guilt over the money Lincoln had borrowed for him. Every length he had gone to was to stop his own pain, no matter how much his subconscious tried to convince him otherwise. She had paid for that more than anyone else.

  Despite everything though, he had continued to pull. He had stoked the flame, fed it. She had come to him, they had come together and it was because he had pushed. Because he had loved her. But if he had _really_ loved her, he would have kept her away from the mess that was his life. 

  He had made it so that she had loved him enough for her to kill for him. He had taken her innocence on top of everything else. She had been the one to pay, when they had all been pardoned she was arrested for the murder of Michael's mother. She was arrested because the government held a grudge against _him_. They wanted to hurt him, so they hurt her.

  Her actions had gotten her a hostile welcome by the guards in the female prison she was sent to. Bruises and beatings and fear. Only the fear wasn't for herself. Sara, his Sara, was too strong for that. She had been through much worse. No, she was afraid for her baby, _their_ baby. The one that he had put their with his selfish love.

  They had planned Sara's break out and Michael had hidden how broken he felt. He hadn't told them what really needed to be done to break his wife out. He had hidden the cancer, because he shouldn't even be with someone if he was dying. He certainly shouldn't _marry_ them. Another reason to add to the very appropriate guilt. When he had entered that prison though... when he had entered he had felt the guilt smoothing over. With what he was about to do, he was getting his Sara, and their baby, to safety. And more. He was going to make sure that he could never hurt her again and that he would never be able to hurt the unborn child.

 So he had made the video for the two most special people in his life, another way to help smooth out the pain. Give them closure so that he wouldn't be able to hurt them with what he had done. What he was planning was meant to get rid of the hurt, not create more. He turned on the cam corder, sat on the bed and told it all he wanted to tell Lincoln and Sara but couldn't while he was alive. Tell them what he should have told them long ago, how much they meant. Tell them what he should have told them and repeated so that they would know that they would never not be the most precious things in his life, tell them how much he would have loved his and Sara's child.  It was the hardest thing he had ever done.

 He had to take a moment to compose himself even as the camera began to record, he was not going to cry, not on the video. He needed to be happy for them.

  "Well, if you are watching this then I am glad because it means that you are safe. And that's all I've ever wanted. I wish I could be there with you but as you probably know now, I wouldn't have had much time anyway. So I made my choice and... I don't regret it," he said smiling. If they saw the video that meant that they would be safe.

  He told them how much he loved them all, how he wanted Linc to look after Sara and their kid... how he wanted his kid to know that he would love him or her. As he finished he was only just holding the tears back.

  "We're free now, finally... we're free."

  He couldn't fight the guilt anymore, he was going to let it drown him. That way it couldn't harm anyone else. Michael was tired of fighting anyway.


End file.
